


Living in Crimson

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Blood, Blood Drinking, Character Turned Into Vampire, Cuddling & Snuggling, Death, Explicit Language, Female Homosexuality, First Fanfiction, First Kiss, Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Mystery, Naked Cuddling, Romance, Sexual Tension, Sleeping Together, Vampires, Werewolves, young adult
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 12:30:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson is human. A human sold to the Holmes family, one of the most powerful vampire families in all of England. Its either life or death. Find out what love is or die like the rest of the world. Fall in love or suffer. Fall in love and suffer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Buildings and Letters

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first Sherlock chapter fanfiction, so I hope you enjoy it. The chapters will be different lengths, mostly short though. I'm hoping although they will be short that there will be many chapters! 
> 
> This story will take place in modern times but I didn't bother to be specific with the years so that's up to your own imagination. Also to guide for the characters, John is seventeen, Sherlock is in his early twenties, Mycroft is pretty old (no one bothers to know), and Harry is around twelve or in her early teens. Hope that helps you to picture things while reading.

John Watson was probably the only human on this Earth who got what he had wished for. Not quite exactly what he had in mind, but close. John Hamish Watson longed to be a doctor; alas his family was poor in this horrible society, therefore not able to send him to school. But there was a solution to this never-ending problem.

  
The sun rose into the crystal clear sky as John walked into City Hall. The whitewashed marble glowing harshly into John’s eyes and the shining dark stone tiles absorbing the sun from even more damage, was unbearable. The sun continued to filter through the tall, broad windows of City Hall. His dusty blonde hair gleamed from the crisp autumn sun. John’s blue eyes scanned the crowd of dark black and brown heads as his feet carried him closer to the desk that cowered in the darkness. Typical for vampires- hiding in the darkness, scared of their own shadows.

  
A short bloke sat at the desk. He had pale skin, almost like snow. His eyes shone like someone in a trace, a dull and bareness lurking through his iris. He had a quill in hand, scribbling down some notes which echoed throughout the hall along with the clanking of shoes.

  
“Excuse me, sir,” John spoke up, eyebrows knitted with anxiety, “I would like to sign up my sister and I as servants…” His voice was quiet to keep from echoing.  
The man didn’t even look up from his book. “Names.”

  
“John Hamish Watson and Harriet Watson, sir.”

  
The man pushed his chair over to the computer in the corner of the desk, his fingers moving quickly and typing in their names. “Oh yes, right here you are. Any services you prefer to carry out at the moment?”

  
John stood, dumbfounded. Normally if you were out after midnight, the police would take you in and sell you to a vampire. No questions asked. He hesitated at that.

“I would like to be a doctor, sir.”

 “And your sister?”

Harriet! Bloody Harriet. (John almost didn’t even want to know what she wanted to do. She was lazy and sometimes a brat.)

“Harriet would like to be a chamber maid or a lady’s maid.”

  
Harriet could talk someone’s ear off. She enjoyed often when she got to see beautiful dresses, and if they were sold to a royal family Harriet could make at least six pounds a week, which would make out to be three hundred and twelve pounds a year. At this rate John would most likely (he’s assuming) be someone’s caretaker and if he was lucky, possibly the first or second. Either way he could hopefully make around eight or nine pounds a week and four hundred and forty-two pounds a year.

  
“Alright, Mr. Watson, your information will be sent to the Trade Center,” the man informed him, “you’ll receive a letter at Whitehall Court, Convent Garden, London, correct?”

  
John nodded. He bowed before he turned, his feet carrying to the exit of City Hall. His veins were running cold with fear of what tomorrow would bring. Harriet and John came from two parents who worked for the Lewis family but now their family was running low on funds forcing Harry and John to now be sent off as servants to keep their family in safe grounds, away from the prying hands of the government. If their family became too low, the vampires would take Harriet and himself away from their parents and sell them off as slaves. Or an orphanage which might be even worse than becoming a slave. The future was a blur ahead, unknown of its secrets that were yet to bring them.

 

* * *

  
  
  
The mail lay on the floor of the apartment building as Harry reached down and snatched it up. Mother, Father, and John were still in bed since all they did was sleep. A letter for Mum, part-time job applications for Dad, and a letter address to Harriet and John. A small frown slipped onto her face. Her dark blond eyebrows drawing together, her long hair pulled back into messy ponytails that were ruffled up from sleeping. Her blue eyes paced the closed envelope.

  
The apartment was a cozy size, a living room, kitchen, and three bedrooms coming off of it; one room for everybody, surprisingly livable due to the family’s funds. Harry settled onto the sofa with a letter opener in hand and all of the letters. She put the letter addressed to Mum and Dad on the cushions and then took hers, slicing it open. The letter was soft under her fingertips, the paper fine with texture. The handwriting was beautifully placed with the seal of England on the top of the letter.

  
It read:   _Dear John and Harriet Watson, December 22 nd_

_  
On the 21st of December, your applications were sent in. You had a total list of a hundred clients who auctioned you off. The highest bidder was the Holmes family. For your guidance, the Holmes family is pure-blood consisting of thirty other servants and workers besides yourselves. The location of the house is near Hyde Park which you will be escorted to the home on the 24th of December. You’ll be given one room in the higher floors that you might share with another servant of your ranking and sex. Every Sunday and Monday you will be allowed to visit your families. Due to your rank of serving vampire family, you will have no curfew and you are allowed out of the house from 8 o’clock p.m to 8 o’clock a.m._

_  
John Watson has been given the shift of caretaker and will be charged with the maintenance of the house. He will perform tasks such as being a waiter and cleaning the bedrooms. Every Saturday at nine o’clock a.m, he will be given 1o pounds and 52o a year._

_  
Harriet Watson will be serving as Lady’s Maid and will take care of the Lady, accompanying her to everything. She will be given 2o pounds a week and 1,o4o yearly. She will be expected to perform tasks such as preparing the Mistress and laying out her clothing._

_Possessions are allowed to be brought with you._

_  
\- City Council_

  
And with that rest of the letter, Harriet ran off to wake up her Mum and Dad excitedly. John would have to find out later- she would be making more money than her older brother and it brought joy to her face.


	2. Sherlock Holmes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is my first Sherlock chapter fanfiction, so I hope you enjoy it. The chapters will be different lengths, mostly short though. I'm hoping although they will be short that there will be many chapters!
> 
> This story will take place in modern times but I didn't bother to be specific with the years so that's up to your own imagination. Also to guide for the characters, John is in his early twenties, Sherlock is in his early twenties too, Mycroft is pretty old (no one bothers to know), and Harry is around her late teens (but is a child at heart and it also might say somewhere that she's thirteen but I changed it). Hope that helps you to picture things while reading. AND I accidentally forgot to change in Sherlock's deduction to John their ages. Sorry. 
> 
> Language warning on this chapter I guess? I tried to type as much as I could before my fingers got all cramped and stuff.

Holmes Manor was the most beautiful thing John’s eyes have ever laid upon. A gentle snow was coming down at the time when the car pulled up, John and Harry sitting in the back seat. A couple- a man and a woman stood in front of the house. The man had ginger hair, harsh blue eyes that didn’t show a single sign of emotion in contrast to the woman standing next to him had dark hair and blue eyes as well and bright red lips that would distract anyone’s eyes (it seemed that the woman was doing something on her phone and hadn’t bothered to look up).  
  
A steward, whom had been sitting in the front seat, climbed out of the car and pulled open the door closest to Harry’s side which was facing the marvelous mansion. John watched her quietly as she dragged her body outside. He soon followed her until they stood in a line before the couple. Something caught his eyes; a pin that was fastened onto the collar of his coat. A coat of arms, perhaps? No, as John figured out, it was the mark of the Holmes family. A symbol of their vampireship.  
  
John nudged Harriet at seeing the pin, bowing together in unison. The worst thing to do would be to get on their bad side right at the meeting of their Masters.  
  
The man smiled gladly, a false one. He didn’t bother to conceal the harshness in his gaze. “Welcome to Holmes Manor. I am Mycroft Holmes; son of Mrs. And Mr. Holmes.” He beckoned the two siblings forward as he began to walk towards the Manor.  
  
The outside of the manor was absolutely divine. It was a crisp, creamy white color with golden beeches in front of it to shade the house. The scenery of alluring beeches and birches span on for what seemed like forever but John could see the moorlands also that bordered the trees. From the windows in the front of the house, it was visible that the inside was dark in contrast to the outside, but a healthy dark stained mahogany.  
  
This odd Mycroft figure turned to them once more before stopping in front of the doors. His hands clasped in front of his body in an excited manner. “Harriet, you’ll be following my assistant here to go meet Mummy,” he gestured towards the door, the assistant whom opened the door for Harry.  
  
“Harry. My name’s Harry.” Harry replied through clenched teeth but reluctantly followed the assistant in silence.  
  
“As for you John,” Mycroft moved in a flash, putting his arm around John’s shoulders and leading him inside, “you’ll be the caretaker for my brother.”

  
John raised an eyebrow at the disgust in Mycroft’s voice. He shook his head to clear it out but still kept the raised eyebrow angled to the Holmes boy.  
  
“Sherlock, he’s around your age,” Mycroft sniffled at that and then supplied a small chuckle, “you’re- twenty? He’s twenty.”  
  
John gave a tiny nod. That was all Mycroft had said on the matter and judging by how his mouth now drew into a tight line, he wasn’t going to find out much more about his new Master, Sherlock Holmes.

 Mycroft continued to escort him inside the Manor which was as grand as John had guessed. (John felt that this house was dark and chilling, but also had]a cozy factor from the warm wood. He assumed that vampires rather enjoyed the cold). Mycroft Holmes had brought John into the kitchen before wishing him luck and departing into the darkness. It sent shivers up John’s back.  
  
Mrs. Hudson, a sweet old lady who had worked at a sewing shop until Mycroft found her (she wasn’t getting paid very much but Mycroft saw that she could be useful here), was the chef and in charge of the female staff. But she was rather the suggestive type when it came to giving orders to someone. When the ginger haired man had brought John into the kitchen, Mrs. Hudson was the first one to greet him.  
  
“Oh John,” she remarked when he entered (John wasn’t surprised that his name was now being rumored through the staff or something along the lines), “It’s great to see a new happy face in this Manor.” She sighed.  
  
“John Watson, but you seem to already know that.” John smiled, studying the old lady's movements.  
  
“Mrs. Hudson, dear.” John held out his hand towards the older woman who shook it in reply.  
  
John awkwardly stood while watching her, gaining a feeling that he should have been doing something else. Mrs. Hudson seemed to notice that, which made her smile even a little more. “Let me go fetch Lestrade to show you around the manor.”  
  
(Most of all; John was wondering when he got to see Sherlock, since apparently he would be serving under him.)

 

* * *

 

  
Lestrade was an older man, not as old as Mrs. Hudson and that wasn’t a bad thing. Mrs. Hudson had led him to the library (he was told there was a bigger one upstairs and this library was there for show) to meet Lestrade. He had wrinkles in his face, mostly around his eyes. But his eyes were still bright, unlike his hair which had turned into a dull shade of grey.  
  
“I’m Lestrade, one of the guards to Mycroft Holmes when he’s here at the manor otherwise I just guard the house.” He smiled, walking off into another room. John scurried after him, not wanting to get lost on the first day.  
  
His room was amazing. The wallpaper was a cozy chocolate color, the bed was fancy, as if it belonged to a king, with a crimson and gold color theme. Maps of London and the world were secured to the wall with tacks. A window sat on the wall facing the door, with a small nook attached to the window perhaps to gaze out into the midnight sky. “You won’t be sharing the room with anyone, also, your work clothes have been put in your drawers.” Lestrade said, breaking his train of thought.  
  
“Great, thanks mate.” John mumbled loud enough for the older man to hear as he exited John’s room.  
  
John shut the door behind him, plopping down on top of the bed, letting his mind wonder to what such things Harry could be doing. Another something irrupted his thoughts but this time it was his door swinging open.  
  
A tall man stood in the once empty doorway. He had a mop of black hair with curls that looked like nobody could tame them. His eyes were a minty green color that sent shivers down John’s spine as well of a pair of narrowed eyes at the man.  
  
“You could have knocked on the bloody door,” John said angrily, at the moment not caring who this was.  
  
The man rolled his eyes in reply. The two seemed to be an old married couple in an instant. “John Watson. You come from a mother and father who also work as servants. You and your brother came here today to make more money to supply the family so both of you don’t have to becomes slaves. Your brother, he’s younger than you and he loves to bug you mostly in front of your parents. He’s and you’re twenty-ish. You're younger then you look which you are commonly reminded by your so called 'friends'.”  
  
John’s mouth gaped in amazement in which the taller man’s face almost looked horrified and surprised at John’s face. John knew perfectly that he should of been angry or downright furious. “That was brilliant! How can you just figure that out?”  
  
The man rolled his eyes as if the answer was right in front of their face. “Your clothing is clearly hand-me-downs from your father seeing as in they are worn down past their point. Your family doesn’t care about your looks from your clothing resulting that you are poor. Also on your trunk,” he gestured towards it in the corner of the room, “has the initials H.W carved into it. Harry.”  
  
John shook his head with a light laugh. “Harry stands for Harriet. He’s a she.”  
  
He sighed. “Damn it, I was close.”  
  
“Since you already know me like everyone else in this house, I would like to know who I’m speaking to.”  
  
“Sherlock Holmes. You’re my caretaker.” Sherlock mocked the last words, his nose wrinkling in disgust.  
  
John knew he should have been feeling angered at Sherlock since he read his whole life story like a book, but he was rather still in awe from it. He opened his mouth to question him on what he should be doing for the upcoming days.  
  
Sherlock studied him with those cold, glaring green eyes. He read him again. “You’re supposed to follow me around but I’ll do with you as I please.” He growled before leaving the room. John couldn’t even calculate that he had already left and blinked a couple times.  
  
A few mixed emotions were set to Sherlock. There was the awe that he was rather brilliant but the doubt of his chilling gaze and the aurora that had settled around Sherlock that put John off.

 

* * *

  
  
Lestrade had fetched John from his room hours later (he had found a laptop under his bed. It was unlocked and John assumed it was now his) after his meeting with Sherlock.  
  
Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Harriet, and a few other servants had gathered at the small dining table in the kitchen exclusively just for them after Mrs. Hudson had prepared the food for the Holmes household.  
  
Harry explained her wonderful day on how she got to boss all of the female staff around beside Mrs. Hudson since she recalled at least some respect their parents had taught them. She had the bedroom right nice to Mrs. Holmes (as so did John with Sherlock). Mrs. Holmes was an extremely kind soul unlike her husband and Mycroft. She even welcomed Harry to take a break now and then from her duties.  
  
Once Harry had gone on explaining to Mrs. Hudson, John took his chance to ask some questions. “Lestrade,” John addressed him, looking up from the steak which Mrs. Hudson had cooked wonderfully, “is Sherlock always like that?”  
  
Lestrade chuckled followed by a smile that pasted onto his face. “Yeah, mostly. Did he deduce you?”  
  
John nodded.  
  
“He does that to everyone. Don’t let it bother you.”  
  
“I found it amazing, not offensive in the least.”  
  
Lestrade gave him a questioning look before taking a large bite of his steak.  
  
“What happened to his other servants?”  
  
Lestrade looked up. He seemed completely dumbfounded by the question and had some difficulty swallowing down what he had been chewing.  
  
“How did you know there were others?”  
  
John took another bite and swallowed before speaking. “There was a laptop under my bed. Covered in dust, so it couldn’t have been put there recently and why would they give me a laptop? Nice one too. An Apple.”  
  
“They all died, John, and I shouldn’t even be telling you this so that’s enough on the matter.” Lestrade waved his hand dismissingly into the air.

John had realized it had grown silent and that Harriet and Mrs. Hudson had heard their whole conversation. Harriet’s gaze was full of curiosity while Mrs. Hudson’s collected pity. A shiver ran through his body as if Death's hand lay on his shoulder.

 

* * *

  
  
The next day John had woken up to the sound of his alarm clock buzzing into his ear. He put on some clothing that were comfy and warm, much different to the cold air of the manor. John dragged himself down the two flights of stairs, turned right out of the main hallway and into the kitchen where Mrs. Hudson was already there.  
  
“John! It’s only seven o’clock, dear, Sherlock sleeps in till almost noon. Go get some more sleep.” Mrs. Hudson chopped up a carrot that rested beneath her knife before pushing the little chunks into a small bowl.  
  
“I don’t think I can get anymore sleep,” John laughed softly,  
  
He moved over to the cupboard, taking out a bag of tea and a mug. He filled up the tea kettle, turning on the stove with a click.  
  
“While you’re waiting, the newspaper is on the counter by the fridge.”  
  
“Thanks, Mrs. Hudson.” John took up the newspaper, opening it up and reading its content.  
  
The headline was: War breaks out in the Netherlands and France. He sniffled at the news and continued to read to find out more on the subject.  
  
Once Mrs. Hudson had brought over the tea for him, John was finished reading the article. It had been a pretty long one summarizing on how vampires and humans in the Netherlands and France were fighting against their government for more equal rights for humans. John couldn’t help but agree on the subject on how every government did need to learn that humans were people too, but being practically broke, it was impossible to get his cause out there.  
  
It was only nine-thirty by the time John had cleared out the whole newspaper when Harry came tumbling into the kitchen with a comb in her hand, her hair messy from taking a shower the night before and not combing it. He rolled his eyes and took the comb gently from her hand. She sat down in the chair pulled out and in return John started combing her hair seeing that this ritual that had been performed throughout many years couldn’t help but bring a small smile to Mrs. Hudson’s face as she watched over her shoulder.  
  
“John, stop pulling so hard,” she whined as her eyes brimmed with painful tears.  
  
John apologized with gentler strokes of the comb. “How do you want your hair?”  
  
“Dutch braid please. I have to go soon, so hurry, Mrs. Holmes told me I could pick out her dress today.” Her voice brimmed with excitement made John smile for her.  
  
John carefully braided her hair while Harry ate a piece of coffee cake Mrs. Hudson had given her for breakfast. When he finished, Harry leapt out of her chair and rushed upstairs.  
  
“She’s beautiful, John,” Mrs. Hudson said once the thumping of Harry’s feet on the stairs had disappeared.  
  
He nodded, “Yeah. She looks like my mum.”

 

* * *

 

  
  
Still having time to spare before Sherlock awoke and Mrs. Hudson preparing his breakfast, John climbed up the stairs and headed to the library that Lestrade had shown him the day before.  
  
The library was huge; the smell of musty old books was welcoming. He walked past a small table near a book shelf and randomly picked a book from the shelf before sitting down at the table. He blinked as a blur of blond hair caught his eye along with the sound of a closing door. He set his book down, noticing another book open below him that wasn’t there before.

  
The page that was opened to was rather odd. It was a simple book about vampires which could come across as peculiar, seeing that the vampires who lived in this house wouldn’t need a book about them (unless they needed the anatomy?). What struck him as odd was that the Holmes’ seal wasn’t on the cover, nor on the binder of the book unlike the one he held in his hands only moments before. And he didn’t exactly see who had given him the book.

  
By the time, eleven o’clock rolled by, John had gathered up Sherlock’s breakfast with the book still tucked underneath his arm. He didn’t bother to knock, assuming that Sherlock wouldn’t even bother to open the door for him, less even when he wasn't awake to get it at the time.  
  
Mrs. Hudson had prepared Sherlock a glass of milk with some pancakes and syrup that made John once more hungry then he should have been. He couldn’t touch the food since Mrs. Hudson warned him that every vampire could smell even the slightest touch to something he wanted. She had also warned him that Sherlock didn’t like eating even if it was good.  
  
John opened the door in silence. The room was bigger than his, though it had the same window coming across with the nook sandwiched underneath. The wallpaper of the room was white with a fancy black pattern. Maps of places were sprawled across the floor and some seemed to have been scattered off from the bed where Sherlock was currently sleeping. His hair was just as messy, poking out from under some covers that had fallen over his head. A pale foot stuck out from underneath.  
  
“Sherlock,” John greeted softly as he closed the door behind him. Sherlock simply moaned in reply, pulling the cover even more over his head than before, curling up tighter into a ball. John froze in spot, his mind wondering what the bloody hell he should have been doing.  
  
He could sit on Sherlock but he would probably get thrown into a wall or something for such childish behavior. “Sherlock, get up. Let’s go.” He said impatiently.  
  
Sherlock slowly sat up. John averted his eyes away seeing as Sherlock had no article of clothing on his body. He handed him the tray. Sherlock growled and set it aside, “I don’t want that.”  
  
Personal space was one thing he knew Sherlock did not have and he was proving that. Sherlock was too close for comfort, behind John, but had thrown on the bed sheets around him. “You’re not scared of me. All the servants are.”  
  
John snorted. “You aren’t even frightening.”  
  
“Bold aren’t we? This won’t hurt- much.” Sherlock cooed.  
  
His breath was chilling on John’s neck. Sherlock moved to face John as in to give him an embrace or perhaps a hug. Sherlock’s fang’s pressed against John’s skin before biting hard down on the shorter man.  
  
John gasped, clutching onto the sheet draped across the vampire’s back. Sherlock lifted him off the ground to get a better hold on John’s neck while in return John wrapped his legs around the other man’s legs.  
  
His head started to grow dizzy while his stomach became nauseous. “Sherlock…” John hushed under his breath in warning to the vampire.  
  
Sherlock retracted his fangs, letting go of John so he fell onto the ground. He disappeared into a mass of black smoke which drifted out of the room and somewhere into the house.  
  
John had tumbled into unconsciousness on the ground. The book that had once been tucked under his arm was indeed nowhere to be found.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm on Christmas break it will take me around a day to write my chapter and get my lovely editor to correct it for me!

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that it might take a while to upload chapters due to that they are beta tested before posting.


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